The Whole Truth
by RoseMac
Summary: Set before the Great Revelation, Sookie Stackhouse comes from an old political family.  Sookie has a secret that may place her in greater danger than her families connections.  A political thriller with a supernatural twist.
1. Chapter 1

Hi all,

Welcome to my newest story! Think of it as a political thriller with a supernatural twist. All of the characters you know and love are here. Some are supernatural. Others are not. My original plan was to write all of this and then post, but the feedback really helps motivate me so I'm posting. I'm not updating on any sort of schedule, but I have a large chunk written so I will try to be timely.

A big thanks to Chisaii-Kitty for beta-ing and to Pepperminty Rose for pre-reading and convincing me to keep going.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

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><p><em><strong>Prologue...<strong>_

Sookie Stackhouse's senior year started tomorrow. She could hardly believe it. She was giddy with excitement. This was her year. She'd be applying early decision to Dartmouth, like the rest of her family had. Sam Merlotte was her boyfriend – well, maybe not yet, but he would be. He'd arrived at school yesterday. He would come tomorrow to help her move her things. Sookie lived so close she never arrived until classes actually started. The first few days were just for getting settled. Tomorrow would be fine for her. Holderness was only maybe 30 minutes away from her house, but her grandparents were rarely here in New Hampshire. They mostly lived in Washington, D.C. That was where her grandfather worked. And his grandfather before him. Her grandfather was a Senator for the great state of New Hampshire. As for Sookie, she was thrilled to get to go to boarding school and not have to deal with all those Washington types all year lone. Even now, she could hear the low murmur of voices downstairs, politicking away.

She flopped on her bed and put her head phones in her ears, which was why she was so startled when she clearly heard a man's voice.

_I must convince him that this will not work. It is not time._

She looked around her bedroom confused. It had sounded like someone was whispering in her ear. Or more like right into her brain, but surely she had imagined that. She pulled her earphones from her ears and listened. It seemed that the house was quiet. She could only hear a murmur of people downstairs. She knew her grandfather had some men over this evening, that wasn't really unusual. She was about to replace the headphones thinking she had dozed off and imagined the whole thing when she heard it again. It was a weird, creepy voice. Commanding and whispery at the same time and it echoed in her head.

_You will not reveal what you have learned. You will convince them to bury the truth._

She sat up on her bed, frightened. She didn't know anything. I don't know anything she thought back at the voice and then realized that she was talking to voices in her head. That wasn't a good thing, not at all.

She hesitated for a moment before rising and padding to her bedroom door and opening it just a crack. She listened again. Soft classical music. Polite discussion. No creepy whisper voice. She started down the hall to the top of the stairs and peered over the curved railing into the foyer. She could see the light in her grandfather's study.

She was wearing a sweatshirt, boxer shorts and slippers. She knew she should go back upstairs. Whoever was visiting her grandfather wasn't expecting to run into a teen in pajamas. Depending on who it was, they might not think it was very funny. And then her grandfather would frown at her and discuss appropriateness. She hated that.

_Listen!_

She was. She couldn't stop. She tiptoed down the stairs toward the study. She felt like the voice was coming from there.

You will not reveal what you have learned! You will see those tapes destroyed. You can do it. You will do it.

And then she heard her grandmother's voice, slightly higher and louder than she ever would have expected. Sookie thought about going to get one of the guns that her grandfather kept locked away or calling the police, that would be a better plan, because her grandmother sounded frightened. And Sookie had never heard her beloved grandmother sound frightened. Nothing frightened Gran because she truly believed that life was a miracle and we were all creatures in need of love, so what was there to be frightened of. Life begins. Life ends. The world is love. There is no reason to fear. Sookie had been raised on it. But right now, Gran sounded scared to death.

"We hear you." Her grandmother's voice was strong in the study while her grandfather sounded subdued. Almost confused. "He'll get it done."

"Thank you Mrs. Stackhouse. That's all we ask. Good evening."

The door to the study opened rather more rapidly than Sookie was expecting and she turned to dart back up the stairs but caught her slipper on the carpet and she went down on one knee. It hurt and she winced but not just because of the pain, the stairs weren't carpeted and it had created a rather loud thud when she landed. Still, she hoped in the dark they wouldn't see her.

_Well, well, what have we here? _

The thought was so loud that Sookie brought her hand to halfway to her head before lowering it. She couldn't hear thoughts. No one could. And why had she even thought it was a thought, it must have been a voice. Someone spoke to her.

She turned and looked toward the front door expecting to find the man that had spoken. Instead, she saw Gran staring at her eyes wide with fear and a gentleman standing next to her. He looked to be in his mid-twenties with dark hair and broad shoulders. He was quite attractive. Sookie smiled at him, for a girl like her, it was almost a reflex.

The gentleman gave a slight bow. Again, ridiculous because who bowed these days. It was almost the new millennium. "Miss Stackhouse."

_She'll be all the leverage we need. He'll fall into line. Keep the secret. A young girl like that is so difficult to protect. Teenagers are always in trouble these days. _

Sookie felt her spine grow rigid. What the hell? Was he threatening her? And he hadn't said that out loud? What was going on? She rubbed at her temple again. An ache was forming in her mind. Were those his thoughts? They were clearer than her own. And louder.

Sookie continued staring at the dark haired man standing by the door. His eyes seemed so strange and she felt as though she could feel his thoughts pressing into her now.

_You have never seen me before. I was not here_. _Should we meet you will not know me. Vampires do not exist._

She wanted to scream at him to stop. Stop lying to her. Stop shouting in her head. He was so very loud. And what the hell was he talking about…vampires! There was no such thing as vampires. Sure, she liked Buffy as much as the next girl, but come on. Vampires!

Normally, she would have spoken up. That's how her grandparents had raised her, respectful, but direct. But she couldn't speak. She was too frightened that she had obviously heard voices that no one else was hearing. Was she going insane? No one else seemed to think anything was odd. Well, there was obviously some tension, but nothing like the terror she was feeling.

Gran crossed toward her. "Sookie dear, are you hurt?" And then tossing a rather scathing look toward the visitor, "Good evening, Mr. Compton."

The man nodded. "I'll leave you to your evening." Her grandmother knelt by Sookie on the staircase looking concerned. She did not respond to Mr. Compton. It was about as ride as Sookie had ever seen her grandmother be, at least to company. Mr. Compton glared at her grandmother's back. "I'll just show myself out."

Adele Stackhouse did not turn around or give any sign that she had heard him at all.

Sookie watched him go over the top of her grandmother's head as the older woman examined Sookie's knee. He had an odd way of moving, he seemed to glide out the door more than walk. He shut the door firmly behind him. It echoed a little through the house.

"Who was he?" She felt like her voice shook as she said it, but her grandmother didn't appear to notice.

She gave Sookie a false smile. "Just someone wanting a favor from your grandfather. Just like lots of others." Sookie didn't believe her, but let the lie stand.

"He creeped me out."

Gran nodded. "Yes, he creeped me out too." She stared at the closed door for a few more moments and then rubbed Sookie's shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. "All packed?"

Sookie nodded and Gran rose to her feet. "I'll be up in a moment to make certain. And hear all about the young man that's picking you up tomorrow. I just want to go and check on your Grandfather, he isn't feeling well."

A look of concern crossed Sookie's face. Her grandparents were getting older and they still kept up such an active schedule, which was not surprising since Mitchell Stackhouse was the senior Senator from New Hampshire. "Are you still leaving tomorrow too?"

Gran smiled at her. "It's nothing to fret over dear. We'll leave tomorrow afternoon. We have to be back when term starts. Run along and I'll be up shortly." It was said kindly, but it was still clearly a dismissal. Sookie "ran along" because what else was she going to do. Tell her grandmother that she'd been hallucinating and hearing voices. Not damn likely. Not with her senior year about to start. Sookie took the stairs two at a time.

Bill Compton walked toward the waiting town car. It was almost cliché really, it was a dark and stormy night here in New Hampshire. Cold for September. Real Halloween weather. The perfect night for a vampire to be out terrorizing and all that.

He snorted in amusement at the thought. He hated it up here. He missed the balmy warmth of his home in Louisiana. Not that temperature affected him, he just liked the way the humid air felt on his skin. Nothing humid about it up here, well, at least until June when the air became swamp-like and the black flies came out. Honestly, there had to have been a southern Senator that would fit their needs, wasn't there?

He jerked open the door to the town car rather harder than he had intended causing the passenger inside to raise her eyebrows slightly in irritation. "Well?"

Bill adjusted his coat jacket and stretched his legs. He glanced at the other passenger and inclined his head slightly. "It's done. They're with us, your majesty."

Sophie Anne, Queen of Louisiana, looked out the window behind Bill and contemplated the house. "His wife didn't sound glamoured."

Bill shook his head, it had been a perplexing moment and he thought briefly about lying about it. But he had always abhorred men who could not be honest about their skills and he would not be that kind of a vampire now. He was known for the strength of his glamour. As well as his manners, humans usually took to him. "She was not. It appears that she is quite strong-minded. The child as well."

Her majesty's well-shaped brows came together, Bill wondered if she had to re-shape them every night or had she died like that. If she had, what had she done in her life to be so well-groomed? She was looking at him now. He could see her mentally ticking through files, thinking, remembering. "Child?"

"The grand-daughter," he began to say, but she was already waving away the explanation.

"Yes, yes. A high school student. She's unimportant." She leaned forward to rap sharply on the partition separating them from the driver. "Let's go."

Bill looked back out the window as the car began to pull away from the house. "Are the Stackhouses entirely human, majesty? The girl…she smelled…"

Sophie-Anne glanced at him momentarily and began digging in her briefcase for something, clearly disinterested in the Stackhouse child. "Maybe not. They're quite an old family. We had their history traced before marking Mitchell. You'll see that in older families – otherness. Things weren't always so defined. And they seem to be open in a way that others are not."

To Bill, she sounded impatient with the current state of things. "You sound impatient with how things are. And yet you're fighting to keep us hidden when others want us exposed."

The rooting through the bag ceased and she turned her head slowly, predatorily, to look at him. "Are you not in line with that aim Mr. Compton?"

If Bill's heart had been beating, it would have stopped. She scared him. He swallowed unnecessarily. "No, majesty. I was merely making conversation."

"Make it to someone else. There will be a time to reveal ourselves. This isn't it. At least not as far as my interests are concerned."

Bill nodded his head. "And what other interests would matter, my liege."

The Queen snorted and pulled the file folder she had wanted from her bag. She opened it and began reading. Bill had been dismissed. His only other job was to ride in silence to the airport.

Sookie began her senior year the next day. Sam Merlotte came to pick her up in a new silver BMW 325i. He smiled widely at Sookie, made polite chit-chat with her grandparents and then reached for her duffle bags to bring them out to the car. Sookie followed him out the door. Her grandparents stood on the porch watching. They'd been quiet this morning, quieter than usual.

Sookie walked down the brick steps and then turned to run back up to the porch to hug her grandparents. First her grandfather and then her grandmother. She hung on a little as she hugged her grandmother. "Are you sure everything is alright? I don't want to go if everything isn't alright."

Her Gran smiled and stroked her cheek lovingly. "Of course it's alright dear. Everything is fine. You go. You have things to do. And so do we. We'll see you in a few weeks."

Sookie looked at her grandmother and nodded.

Her grandfather reached over and touched her hair lightly. "What's all this sadness? You've got a busy few weeks ahead. Early decision applications. You know five generations of Stackhouses have gone to Dartmouth."

Sookie rolled her eyes at him. "Really, Grandpa. I don't think you've ever mentioned that before."

Mitchell Stackhouse grinned. He liked his granddaughter. She was sassy. "Must have slipped my mind, pumpkin."

Sookie rolled her eyes again before kissing him on the cheek.

She crossed the driveway and opened the door to Sam's BMW. Sliding into the passenger seat she smiled at Sam and he started the car – this was a good way to start her senior year. She turned and waved to her grandparents as they sped down the driveway off to Holderness.

Sookie never forgot that night and over the years she blamed it on many things from sleep deprivation to stress, none of which she believed, but she never heard another voice, so she assumed it must have all just been her imagination…or something like that. And that was what she told herself for the next nine years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ten years later…**

My God it's desolate up here, Eric Northman thought for the fifth time that afternoon as he drove from Boston to New Hampshire. There were long stretches of road with virtually nothing to see other than trees, but there certainly were trees. So many trees he thought his brain might explode from the cleanliness of the air. He thought he might be having some sort of oxygen overload every time he put the window down in his classic Corvette. The car was his baby. He'd bought it on eBay – it had been a mess and restored it over the years. Although he was realizing that he probably should have looked a little more closely at the heat, and maybe thought about some seat warmers. The 1960s heating system didn't really seem up to a gray October day in New Hampshire. It had been fine in D.C.

He followed his GPS up route 3 and into Manchester to Elm Street. Pam had given him the address of a restaurant on Elm. He parked and sat for a moment deciding whether or not he wanted to get out of the car. It was Pam, so he probably had to get out or she'd never forgive him for standing her up, well, she probably would, but he still couldn't bring himself to do it.

He'd debated turning around the entire ride from D.C. to Boston. He stopped in Boston to go to dinner with friends from his undergrad days. Stan Davis worked for Bank of Boston. He'd been a hot nerd at a time when nerds were really coming into their own, now, he was pretty much just a nerd. A nerd that was losing his hair. And then there was Clancy, a typical frat guy, although Harvard did not have frats. They had played rugby together. Christ, Clancy had just gotten fat. And he was an asshole. Had he always been that much of an asshole? Eric had not gotten fat nor was he losing his hair. When the two men had wanted to go for a drink at a bar that was obviously a pick up spot, Eric couldn't bring himself to refuse. Which had led to getting drunk with those same friends. It had been a great ego boost as he drove toward a job interview with his former intern that he would probably have to take – it seemed to be the only job out there.

He'd awoken this morning to a lovely red-head, poli-sci graduate student who had seen him on CNN a few years ago. He couldn't remember her name, but her skin had almost convinced him to call Pam and tell her to fuck off. He didn't need to be saved. Unfortunately, the redhead had wanted to talk policy while watching the news as some sort of pillow talk and he hadn't been especially interested in her mind…although he was certain it was first-rate. Pam had her to thank because two minutes of what's her name's analysis of the upcoming election and he was on his way to New Hampshire to meet Pam for lunch…so sorry, but he'd call.

He looked around and spotted the restaurant before opening the car door. No use stepping out into the ridiculously crisp autumn air until he needed to. Not that the Corvette was especially warm, but it had to be warmer than outside. Looking up and down the street, he noticed there seemed to be a lot more here than he remembered. Apparently, Manchester was up and coming. Who knew? Or cared.

He fished his messenger bag out of the passenger seat and headed into the restaurant. It wasn't a New Hampshire type place. It was more of a New York type place in New Hampshire. It was moderately full but Pam was easy to spot. Of course, she was easy to spot anywhere. She was waiting somewhat impatiently at a table in the window. She did not smile, but merely looked him up and down as he slid into the seat across from her.

"You look tired," she said after a disconcertingly long silence.

Eric raised an eyebrow and ordered an iced tea from the waiter that had appeared. "Thank you Pam. I'm actually quite well rested." Although in fact, the redhead had been a lively little thing and he was only running on a few hours sleep. He was too old for that shit.

Pam cocked an eyebrow in return. "Yes, I would imagine so."

And the silence beat for several seconds as they regarded each other.

Finally Eric broke it. "What am I doing up here Pam?"

Pam reached out her hand and picked a roll up out of the basket and buttered it. Eric couldn't tell if she was moving slowly on purpose or if it just felt that way. "Interviewing for a job."

Eric leaned back in his seat and fingered his still unopened menu. "Seriously? Here?"

Pam leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "Have a lot of other offers do you?"

Now Eric picked up the menu and glared at it. No, he didn't have any other offers. Not a one.

He may have spent ten years as a political reporter. He may have been on CNN and CNBC more times than he could count, but no one had much faith in him anymore. And he drank. Not enough to actually be considered a drunk, but enough to go around punching people at black tie dinners.

"And you think I'll be employable once I work here? Give me a break Pam. This paper might as well be renamed the Tribute to Yellow Journalism." He couldn't figure out for the life of him what had made Pam take a job all the way up here at a paper that was known for its conservative bent and knife-and-kill journalism. She could work anywhere. He'd trained her himself. And she wanted him to come be a part of that?

Pam rolled her eyes. "That wasn't even especially clever. You don't think I've heard it all since I took this job. I'm going to turn this paper around. Restore its influence and its reputation. That was all Bell and he's been dead for twenty years. New Hampshire is still an important election. I'm going to make this paper mean something and you are going to help me. Plus, I bought an amazing lake house, wait until you see it."

Eric looked out at the street. There was no one on it. And it was cold for early October. Like really cold. He was wearing a tweed jacket for Christ sake and the shoes he wore in DC when it snowed and he was still freezing. He'd never really enjoyed coming up here. "Do you actually like living up here?"

To his surprise, Pam smiled. "You know I do. It's peaceful and people mind their own business –" She'd been rather surprised herself. She'd come here to visit friends and had stayed.

"As long as you don't try to take away their guns –"

"Don't stereotype, Eric. It's unbecoming." She gave him a hard look. "You have no job. You've never gotten over…things. You have a bad temper. You drink too much – don't tell me you don't. I'm not saying you're an alcoholic or anything…but despite some serious impulse control issues you're a great reporter and I need help. This will give you something to do and get you out of DC, which you should have done ages ago anyway."

Eric looked at her. He and Pam had been friends since she had gotten out of journalism school. She'd been his intern originally. She'd been the best intern he'd ever had, so tenacious. Pam could track down any piece of information no matter how obscure. He'd known from the first moment he saw her; she was going to be great journalist. She was born for it.

She was right too. He needed to get out of DC. He'd made a few professional enemies as he was engaged in his downward personal spiral and he wasn't going to get a job any time soon in the District. If he ever wanted to work again, he needed to go somewhere else. He couldn't keep going like this, stuck in the same place, re-living bad decisions.

There was really no decision to be made. Pam had a job. He needed a job. He needed a change and this was certainly one of those. Of course, she'd known all that when she called him. She'd known that all his bluster was just that. He was taking the job. He was out of options really, not if he wanted to keep writing. And she didn't think he could stop writing. Neither did he. "When do you want me?"

Pam reached under the table and dug around in her bag for a moment finding what she was looking for, she placed a thumb drive on the table next to his water glass. "How about this afternoon? There's been a murder."

Eric's hand closed over the thumb drive and his thumb stroked it slightly. His ears had already perked up at Pam's words even as his brain was protesting. "What are you talking about? I'm a political reporter, not a crime reporter."

Pam shrugged. "You're a great reporter, better than anyone else I have on staff including me. I don't have a crime reporter because I fired him a month ago and have been filling in myself – there isn't really that much crime so it hasn't been difficult – and as it happens there is a political slant, kind of. Adele Stackhouse is the victim."

Adele Stackhouse, Eric's mind whirred as he placed the name. "Mitchell Stackhouse's widow? Who would want to kill her?"

Mitchell Stackhouse had been a senator from maybe the late seventies up until he'd died. He was one of those senators that nobody ran against. An old New Hampshire family in a state that still cared about that sort of thing. And his wife, Adele, had been involved in more charitable causes than you could name. If it had to do with caring for the less fortunate or leveling the playing field in some way, Adele was probably on the board. She was one of the most open and honest people he'd ever met – truly a kind soul.

Pam shrugged. "If I knew, there wouldn't be much point in your going out there."

Eric frowned at the thumb drive that most likely held the key, if he knew Pam, she'd gone digging and it was all in here. "Going out where?"

"The granddaughter found her. She lived with Adele in the family home. She's a little unusual. There have been some rumors that she might have been involved. She's not too popular with the locals, the granddaughter. Everyone loved Adele."

Eric pursed his lips and looked at Pam. He had met Adele Stackhouse in D.C. He'd interviewed Mitchell several times. He wouldn't have said that he was friends with them, but they'd been friendly. He tried to remember a granddaughter, but she wasn't coming to mind. He remembered that Adele and Mitchell Stackhouse had raised their grandchildren after the parents had been killed in a car crash, but he couldn't remember anything about the parents or the children beyond that. "Unusual?"

"The locals all say she's crazy. Of course, that's new. She used to be Miss DAR."

"DAR?"

"Daughters of the American Revolution. What do you live under a rock? It's the thing up here."

"No, I live in a place where the world has moved on." Eric looked around the restaurant already irritated at the idea of spending his afternoon interviewing some prep school princess.

Again, Pam rolled her eyes at him. "Anyway, she was typical – private school, field hockey, lacrosse, horses, off to Dartmouth…the whole bit. Everyone just thought she was wonderful, such a credit to the Stackhouse family, but something happened. Now they all think she's nuts. She's lived with the grandmother for years. No real job. Dropped out of med school. Anyway, the police don't' think she was involved, but there's something weird about it. She's not clamoring for justice or anything that you would expect. I talked to her and she hardly even seems surprised, I'd call her resigned. A lot of the town biddies think it might have had something to do with the "bad crowd" she's been running around with."

Eric cocked his eyebrow at the bad crowd. "What do you think?" Personally, he was thinking drugs from Pam's description. It might be the back of beyond, but drugs were everywhere. And it happened, even to the "best" families. "Drugs?"

Pam considered it for a moment. "I think she probably does know something and the police are dismissing her because she's offbeat or whatever she is. She didn't seem crazy to me or like someone so drug addicted she'd kill her own grandmother. Of course, I haven't talked to her about this. Also, I haven't met "the crowd" which you have to assume is some guy." Then Pam smiled or more like leered. "Also, I think she's got the greatest breasts I've ever seen. But I'll be interested to hear what you think when you head over there this afternoon."

Eric quirked an eyebrow at Pam. She really wasn't wasting any time was she? Arrogant. And right. He'd go, of course he'd go. Adele Stackhouse's murder, it would be hard to keep him away. "You don't waste any time do you?" Eric growled flagging down the waiter to place his order.

Pam shrugged. "Newspapers are a business Eric and this business could use something to boost our numbers. I'm not in the habit of running failing ventures."

Eric rolled his eyes. "You want to tell me what's on this drive since I might not have time to read through it."

Pam nodded and leaned in giving Eric a brief download of everything she knew about Adele Stackhouse's murder. She was damn glad to have him here. This was big news and she hadn't been kidding when she'd said he was a great journalist. He could do this story justice. It would bring him national attention again and it would help her out quite a bit too.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone that has alerted or left a review! If you haven't read my stuff before, I'm really bad about review responses, so let me just say upfront that I read them and appreciate them and will try to respond.

A special thanks to my beta Chiisai-Kitty and to Pepperminty Rose for pre-reading and discussing.

I know you all had a lot of questions about vampires vs. non-vampires and what abilities Sookie has...this chapter won't answer those questions (the answers are coming though), but on the plus side Sookie and Eric will meet.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

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><p>Damn this was a long drive. Didn't Pam say that Stackford was only two towns away? He'd been in the car almost forty-five minutes. In D.C., he would have been in a different state by now. As he crested the hill, a lovely carved sign informed him that he was now entering Stackford, N.H. The Stackhouse family had lived here since the early 1700s. The town had been given the name Stackford at some point during the revolution when the Stackhouse family, or at least the men he assumed, forded the river to help defeat…someone…someone British.<p>

And as he gathered, from that time on, some Stackhouse had always lived in the town and by the early 1800s the family had moved into the sprawling Greek Revival that he could now see in the distance. The large white house sat on a smaller hill putting it in the panorama just slightly below the Congregationalist Church. How very telling. His GPS informed him that he should turn left, which led him not into town but to the hill that faced the town that the Stackhouse home presided over.

Eric sped through the winding streets cursing the number of trees, lack of signage and abundance of wet leaves. The GPS was telling him that he should be coming close. He was glancing at it when the road curved rather more sharply than he had realized and he hit the brakes, a little too hard considering the number of leaves on the road. Two full spins later and he was in a drainage ditch cursing New Hampshire and his corvette. He took a moment to determine if he was hurt and realizing that he wasn't, thrust the door open with an angry set of expletives about Pam and this story as well as the state and its road maintenance.

He trudged up to the top of the ditch careful to keep from ending up face down on the wet and muddy embankment and stood on the road wondering who to call for roadside assistance and if he even had cell service. He fished his phone out of his pocket and was pleased to find a full four bars.

"You're alright then?"

Eric jumped slightly before turning around to see a young woman sitting on a rock looking at him from the other side of the road. He stared at her. What the fuck? Her cranberry pea coat seemed to blend in with the autumnal colors. He hadn't even seen her. It was like she was part of the damn woods. Creepy. And why was she sitting on a rock in the woods. "You scared me."

She just kept looking at him. "You're going to need a tow."

He looked at the car and bit back a "no shit" before looking at the woman again. "Thank God for Triple A," he snorted. He wished she'd leave. This was kind of embarrassing. Classic corvettes didn't look very cool stuck in a drainage ditch. Not that he was trying to look cool exactly…it was just…

She smiled slightly, hopped down off her rock and walked toward him. "Do I know you? You look sort of familiar."

He looked at her. As she moved closed he could see that she'd been crying. He could also see that without the red rimmed eyes, blotchy skin and runny nose, she'd be lovely. Crying in the woods. Was this possibly Sookie Stackhouse?

He shook his head. "No, I'm new around here. Just moved." He snorted. "Well, not even moved yet."

She looked at him appraisingly and said nothing in response. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stared. He didn't know what to make of that. In DC, he would have assumed that she recognized him, but not here.

Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail that hung down over the shoulder of her coat. She pulled a gloved hand from the pocket of her coat and extended it toward him. She didn't smile. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse."

He took her hand. It seemed very small in his even though she did not seem especially delicate. "Eric Northman. In the interest of full disclosure –"

"You're a reporter," she finished. "I remember seeing you on Meet the Press. My grandfather said you were going to be 'one of the great ones.'"

Eric preened slightly until Sookie took him down a peg. "Kind of fell off the map didn't you?"

And so much for his ego getting some much needed stroking – the effect of the red-head in Boston had worn off somewhere around the time he realized he'd been forced to take a job at a paper seriously lacking in credibility and the newsroom at the Washington Post was going to be gossiping about it by tomorrow. "I made a few wrong turns…and what do you know…" He made a whistling sound and mimed a downward spiral with his hand. "Right off the map."

"And right off the map, brought you here. To my drainage ditch."

He let the comment about the drainage ditch go. He couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or tell her to go fuck herself, so he figured it was easiest to ignore her. Telling her to fuck herself might have been a bit of an over-reaction and he was trying to move away from those. What could he say, he was sensitive about the rather dramatic downturn in his career. He didn't need to hear it from some drop-out who spent her time strolling through the woods. Oh yeah, he'd read all about Miss Sookie Stackhouse…well, skimmed all about her anyway in the twenty minutes Pam had allowed him to wolf down his lunch. And from what he'd read, she wasn't someone who should be passing judgment on people's lack of career path. Drop-out. It made him feel better to insult her in his head. "I wanted to pay my respects. I met your Grandmother a few times. She was a wonderful woman."

Sookie's jaw moved in away that made him assume she was grinding her teeth together. He couldn't tell if she was trying not to cry again or biting back another snippy comment. She snorted through her nose. "Bullshit. You're here working for Miss Ravenscroft. We saw her a few days ago at dinner and she said she was staffing up. You're right about my grandmother though, she was a wonderful woman."

She turned and started back into the woods. Sookie felt her eyes fill with tears. Her beloved grandmother gone. There were moments when she could still barely stand it. She would love justice, but Eric Northman wasn't going to help her with that. Maybe in another world, but not in this one.

She didn't know why she hadn't realized that the newspaper would be out for an interview. Adele Stackhouse had been an activist. A grand dame of a different era. Fighting for civil rights and education. She'd believed in generosity and love and look where it had gotten them. She knew Adele would scold her for thinking such things, but she couldn't help it.

Perhaps if her grandmother hadn't believed so hard in the good in everyone. Sookie had always tried to follow in her beliefs, but they'd disagreed on this one. Sookie knew there was reason to fear. She knew. She knew too much. She stomped back into her woods. Eric Northman might as well just stay in her drainage ditch. She couldn't tell him anything that would help him find his way out of New Hampshire and back to where he wanted to be and that's why he was here even if he was being honest about liking Adele. And he couldn't help her in any way either. She wasn't going to get justice from a newspaper article.

Eric watched her walk away from him with a bit of confusion that was rapidly heading toward panic. That hadn't gone very well. People, especially women, usually found him charming. Sookie Stackhouse didn't appear to be especially impressed, which was a complete pain in the ass because he needed her to talk to him. He couldn't get much of a worthwhile story without her. "Miss Stackhouse!" Eric said rather more loudly than he had intended. It was really quiet up here. It echoed.

Sookie turned and looked back at him, although she couldn't honestly say why. Maybe just because her grandmother had always liked him. Or at least, Gran had always said he was a card, maybe that didn't really indicate liking someone. But spending time with someone that might make her laugh sounded infinitely better than sitting alone in that mausoleum of a house or chatting with members of her grandmother's bridge group about all of Adele's charity work. She was sick of talking about her grandmother like she was a saint. She wanted someone to talk about her sense of humor.

"I really did like your Grandmother. I was at a charity dinner with her once," It was all Sookie could do not to roll her eyes and scream. She'd heard a thousand stories like this. But then he said something else. "And she told me this story about the guest speaker – it was quite an off-color story. I couldn't look at him for the rest of the dinner. And then I had to interview him afterward and could barely keep from laughing. The interview was shit. When I told your grandmother she laughed so hard she actually snorted."

Eric shook his head at the memory and laughed a little. It was the worst interview he'd ever done. Every time he'd seen Adele Stackhouse she had told him some story about the absurdity and arrogance of the political world and he had guffawed.

They understood each other, he and Adele. And it hit him for the first time that her death truly was a tragedy. He felt ashamed that he hadn't thought of it before then. Honesty, Adele had loved honesty. He looked Sookie right in the eye. "But you are right, I wouldn't be here if she wasn't dead. I'm here because I'd like to see her killer brought to justice. Because I liked her." And because it will really sell papers, but he doubted that would get him in the door.

Sookie smirked at him. "And it will help Pam sell a lot of papers. Gran would be okay with that you know. She thought Pam was a hoot. Honesty has always gone a lot further in this family than honey, Mr. Northman." She glanced back up at the house. "You might as well come up to the house to call for your tow. It's not like you'll be alone in your voyeurism. That's why all of them are there."

She continued on her path through the woods. Eric glanced down at his loafers and thought they weren't really up to the task of hiking through the woods on a damp day, but Sookie Stackhouse didn't seem especially interested in his tender sensibilities. He pulled his messenger bag out of the front seat of the car and hurried to catch up to her. Fortunately, it was easy even with the inferior footwear; he must have had eight or nine inches on her.

She stepped up onto the porch and pushed open the front door. Eric stepped inside and looked around. It was Twelve Oaks. Except in the North. He was standing in a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase. There were formal spaces on either side of him. One was an office and the other a formal living room both had fireplaces. "Nice place."

Sookie arched an eyebrow at him. "Sure. If you like creepy gigantic spaces that are impossible to heat, it's the bee's knees." She pulled off her gloves and stuffed them in her pockets and began to unbutton her coat. Eric did the same. There didn't seem to be any kind of closet, but there were two coat trees on either side of the door. He hung his overcoat on one of them. Sookie looked at it for a moment and hung hers next to it.

The house wasn't exactly full, but it wasn't empty either. There seemed to be elderly women just kind of milling around the living room, talking to each other in hushed tones. When Sookie and Eric came in, one of women called out from the living room. "Sookie, honey, is that you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Fortenberry. It's me." Sookie rolled her eyes and walked toward the living room motioning for Eric to follow. The women were all looking at them now.

"Everyone, this is Eric Northman. He was a friend of Gran's in D.C." She turned to Eric. "Gran's Bridge Club has been taking care of me since she passed with the funeral being tomorrow and all, they don't want to leave me alone." Although Sookie's tone was kind, Eric had the sense that alone was exactly how she would like to be. "I'm just going to take Mr. Northman into the kitchen and give him some coffee."

The women all nodded sympathetically and Sookie turned on her heel and practically ran for the kitchen. Eric followed.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi all,

Hope everyone that was celebrating had a lovely holiday. Really enjoying your feedback on this story! If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me and I'll be happy to answer them.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.

* * *

><p>The kitchen they entered was nothing like the formal space they had just come from. This was clearly where Sookie and Adele had lived. Papers were scattered and stuffed in baskets, to be dealt with later. A computer was up and running on the counter. Appliances were newer, but well used. There were stains on the wood farmhouse-style table that indicated frequent use. Plants decorated the windows and photos were stuck to the refrigerator. It wasn't messy, but it was well lived in. Eric liked this space.<p>

She indicated to a breakfast counter with tall stools and set to work making coffee. She moved around the kitchen the way a person does when they've lived in a place their whole life, not needing to look as they reached for items. She pulled out the coffee beans, placed them in the grinder and set it in motion, turned in a blur of movement to extract several casserole dishes from the fridge, which she set on the counter in front of him and then without looking away extracted a phone book from a drawer and handed it to him. "The number for Dawson's is on the inside of the front cover. Just tell him you need a tow out of my drainage ditch and he'll be right out for you."

Eric looked at her.

"You aren't the first person to take the turn too fast," she commented reaching for two china coffee cups. Eric did his best not to snort at the cups. They looked dainty. He was more of a mug kind of guy. These cups looked like they'd hold maybe three sips of coffee.

"There's a lot of food." Sookie indicated to the casserole dishes she'd laid out on the counter. "I have just about every kind of pie you could want."

Eric looked at her and then at the pie. He smiled. "Do you have coconut custard?"

She looked startled for a moment and then began to laugh. "Okay, no. Think New Hampshire in the fall…I have apple pie, apple cobbler and apple crisp. Pick one of those. I also have pumpkin, but I'd prefer you eat the apple since I have so much of it."

He grinned at her. She was offbeat, but not in a crazy kind of way. "Why, what a kind offer Miss Stackhouse! Whatever you're having."

She smiled at him and pulled down a china plate. "I'm not having any of it. I hate apple pie. I would love it if someone took the damn stuff." She cut a large slice from the pan and dropped it on the plate. "Whip cream?"

"No thank you. And the coffee is fine black." Sookie nodded and handed him a cup before pouring copious amounts of milk and sugar into her own.

Then they sat in silence.

For Eric, at least, the silence was purposeful. He had no idea what was going on Sookie Stackhouse's mind, but he was hoping that if he sat quietly for long enough, she'd tell him. She took a long sip of coffee and smiled at him. "So you've moved to New Hampshire?"

Eric frowned at the pie. He hadn't been expecting that she was thinking about him. He didn't want to talk about him. "For the time being. Pam needs help. She's taken on a rather large job, turning that paper around."

Sookie smiled at him. "Hey, I grew up reading that paper. Don't knock it. My grandparents would special order the Times and the Post, but neither had good Saturday comics like the Leader."

Eric smiled in return. "The Times doesn't even have comics, pretentious bastards. I've never liked them."

"That's right. You worked at the Washington Post." She smiled at him over her coffee mug. She was holding it with both hands and Eric couldn't decide if it was keeping her hands warm or providing some sort of an anchor. Whatever they were talking about, she was thinking about something else, he could tell by the way her eyes kept wandering around the room.

He shrugged and the movement seemed to catch her attention. She focused on him again. He almost wished she hadn't. She looked so sad. He rarely felt sorry for the people he interviewed, he didn't do that kind of reporting, but today, he felt sad for Sookie Stackhouse. He wished he hadn't come for a moment. Not to her house. Not to this state. But the thought dissipated almost as quickly as it had come. He'd liked Adele Stackhouse. And he was finding the granddaughter charming as well, a fact which sort of irritated him, but he was here for a purpose and she was a source. "I've worked at both, but I do think the Times is totally full of itself. And what do you do Miss Stackhouse?"

The color seemed to drain from Sookie's face. The smile certainly disappeared rather sharply. "Nothing."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Nothing? Nothing at all?"

She rolled her eyes irritably. "I work in a bar. Hair of the Dog, do you know it?"

Eric shook his head. "I've only been up here a day and Pam has asked that I stay out of bars."

They stared at each other for several beats until Sookie looked out the window. "It's getting dark. You're tow will be here soon." She fidgeted with the paper napkin she had placed next to her coffee cut. Her fingers worked as she spoke, shredding and balling tiny pieces of paper. This girl was wound. Of course, finding your grandmother murdered was probably going to do that to you. Eric took another bite of pie. He didn't know who had made it, but it was damn good pie. Clearly homemade and probably containing several pounds of butter. "You never asked me any questions about Gran."

He looked at her. She had dark circles under her eyes. The kind that you got when you hadn't slept well in ages. He was familiar with them. And her face was thin, too thin. You could tell it didn't usually look that way. Despite all that she really was lovely, but she was something else too. She seemed a little lost and he didn't think it was just the death of her grandmother. The way she looked, it was the way someone that's been stressed out for a long time. This wasn't the effects of just a couple of days. "I can always come back tomorrow."

She stared at him and did not respond. She didn't know how to respond. She couldn't remember the last time a regular guy had wanted anything much to do with her. Let alone a good-looking and intelligent one. Not that he was exactly perfect. She knew all about Eric Northman.

Her Gran had followed the demise of his career with a disappointed clucking of her tongue. When he'd punched Victor Madden, the head of a large lobbying firm at a black tie fundraiser, Gran had not only clucked her tongue, but also shaken her head and sighed. "Well, he's in some hot water now," she'd told Sookie. Gran doubted he'd ever make it back to Washington's inner circle.

And then something else hit her. She shook her head and looked at him with wide eyes. "Not tomorrow," she whispered. "The funeral…" Her eyes teared and she looked down at the countertop, beginning to shred the napkin she had placed next to his coffee cup earlier. Hers was already a series of tiny paper balls. She felt horrible that she had forgotten for even a moment. Fuck Eric Northman and his super blue eyes and too relaxed attitude, it had made her forget that there were terrible things out there in the world and now her grandmother was dead. And she stared at him with something slightly akin to hate. It wasn't his fault that Adele was dead, but for that second, it sure felt good to blame him.

Eric cursed himself for forgetting what he had come here to do. He'd been enjoying himself, chatting with Sookie. He shook his head. She was a source. But he liked her. Just like he liked Adele. He might be a little too close to this situation to be terribly effective. He was going to mention that to Pam when he got back. Talking to Sookie had felt too much like talking to a friend, back when he'd had friends. "Of course, I don't want to intrude, but I'd like to pay my respects."

Sookie nodded, her hatred evaporating as quickly as it had come upon her. God, she hated this, she didn't know if she can handle the crazy emotional swings brought on by grief. She already had so much to deal with. "Gran would have liked that." She glanced at the kitchen doors that would lead to the bridge club in the parlor. "There are going to be lots of people there talking about her like she was some sort of saint. She'd like you being there, remembering her as someone else. Someone more like she really was." Had she just invited a reporter to the funeral? It was private.

She scrambled to recover. "Look, I…you're a reporter. And I understand you're covering Gran's death…" She paused for a moment and thought. Trying to preserve her family's good name, protect herself…and her secrets…protect Gran's secrets. "Mr. Northman, I have a proposition for you."

Eric raised an eyebrow and turned his attention away from his pie to look at Sookie. "I'm all ears Miss Stackhouse."

"Come to the funeral tomorrow. It's closed. There's no press getting in. I don't want to see a camera or a notepad. But you're welcome and you can write something, but I want to see it first."

Eric narrowed his eyes at her. See it first? Was she insane? He wasn't going to show her his story in advance. He didn't do that. Hell, he barely let his editor change shit. "Why would I do that Miss Stackhouse?"

She gave him an appraising look. "Because I'm giving you exclusivity. I'd rather have you covering the story in a dignified manner than People magazine writing some tabloid-style crap. And because you aren't 'Eric Northman' anymore. So we can benefit each other here." She made air quotes around his name. Eric hated air quotes. He realized he hated them more when they were used in conjunction with himself. "And because I trust you."

Eric stared at her. If she had slapped him across the face he wouldn't have been any less surprised. There was a piece of hair that was had slid out of her ponytail and was caught on her collar. It was driving him crazy how much he wanted to tuck it behind her ear. "That's…crazy Sookie."

She shrugged. "I don't think so. Finish your pie. Please. I could use one less apple pie around here. I need to check on the Bridge Club. They need to get going before its really dark. None of them can see in the dark for shit. If Dawson gets here – he'll come to the kitchen door – he'll give you a ride to wherever you need to go."

Sookie hopped up off her stool and slid out the swinging door to the main part of the house without another word. About a second later there was a loud knock on the back door. Eric had still been watching the kitchen door swing as he contemplated what Sookie was offering and wondered what the heck she was getting in return. Because there was something she wanted out of this. He didn't like the idea that he might be getting played.

Eric rose and answered the kitchen door. "Dawson?"

The large bearded man smiled. "Eric Northman?"

Eric nodded and reached for his coat and bag, which he had draped over the back of the stool.

Tray Dawson didn't step inside. Sookie was nowhere to be seen. He guessed the guy had known her grandparents. He looked like a D.C. type and considering the car Tray knew he had to be from out of town. No one from around here would drive a car like that on a day like today, too wet. "Let's get your car out of the ditch and then we can figure out if it needs work."

Eric nodded and began to follow him out. He'd gone about three steps when he walked back into the kitchen and scooped up the pie from the counter. "Do you like pie, Mr. Dawson?"


	5. Chapter 5

Hope everyone had a lovely New Year's! As always, thanks to everyone that has been reading this story. I know its a little different, but there is a method to why some people are supernatural and others are not! I promise.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

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><p>Eric woke to the sound of Pam banging on his hotel room door. He knew it was Pam. He could tell by the knock. It was seven in the morning. He'd been asleep. The service was at eleven. He opened the door a crack and eyed her. He wasn't letting her in unless she had coffee.<p>

Pam raised the Starbucks takeout tray and shook it slightly like you might wave a flag to catch an angry bull's attention. She'd known better than to show up without coffee. She doubted the rumors that Eric was a drunk were true, but he'd need coffee even if he weren't hung over. She knew that from having interned for him.

Of course, if he was a drunk, she was going to have to handle him differently. She needed to find out what the hell had happened that he would punch Victor Madden at a black tie fundraiser and then get in some huge fight with his publisher later that same night. She couldn't imagine Eric doing something like that. There had to have been circumstances. Most bosses would just ask, but Eric…he was her mentor. He was special to her in a way she couldn't describe. She just couldn't ask. She kept hoping he'd share. So far hoping hadn't gotten her too much.

So she plunked herself down in the middle of the hotel room and started talking. She had a laptop and a slideshow of potential funeral attendees going before he could wipe the sleep from his eyes. She was still talking when he'd all but growled at her, took a large swig of coffee and padded over to the closet to yank out a suit and dress shirt.

Pam watched him as he rooted around in his bag for a decent tie. He could feel her watching him for all that he was trying to ignore it. She was looking him over very carefully. He could almost hear her thinking that if the rumors that he'd become an alcoholic were true, it wasn't effecting him physically, at least not yet. He wasn't surprised, since the rumors weren't true. "What Pam?" He refused to look up from his tie search; he'd actually found the tie, now he was looking for black dress socks. But he still wasn't looking up not for socks, not for a tie, not as long as Pam was staring at him like he his back was going to unlock the key to the mystery of why he was up here.

She tapped her fingers on the trackpad of her computer. "You've been working out in your time off. Swimming?"

He stared into the bag. He had been swimming. Long hours at the gym at extremely off hours - any time he knew he wouldn't run in to anyone he'd ever met. "Biking too." And then he snorted, "I don't like to spend a lot on gas what with being unemployed."

Pam smiled and looked back at the computer without further comment. Apparently, they weren't going to discuss the various rumors. Well, that was fine with him. "Don't mind me. I'll just change in the bathroom."

Pam waved to him idly while checking her email. "Fine."

"That was sarcastic Pam."

"I know."

Eric slammed the door as loudly as he could and turned on the shower full blast. Did she seriously think he needed four hours of prep? Christ, never, ever punch a lobbyist at a formal event, no matter what you know and can't prove.

- 888-

Eric arrived at the First Congregationalist Church of Stackford and parked. It was, as predicted, a mob scene. The State Police had been called out to keep the media back. He had to check in and show identification. As promised, Sookie had added him to the list. He lingered slightly before entering wondering when Sookie and the family would be arriving.

"Northman!" Eric turned in the direction of his name and wished that he had just gone inside instead of hanging around. A man in a leather jacket and a large camera around his neck oozed out of the crowd to stand next to Eric.

"Mickey," Eric ground out not bothering to hide his distaste. "What are you doing here?"

Mickey snorted unattractively. "Is that an actual question asshole? Jesus, did they fire you because you've turned into a fucking moron."

Eric turned slowly and looked down at him. He was close to a foot taller than this disgusting little man. He felt like it was sort of symbolic of their positions within their profession. What they did was not the same. And yet, they knew each other. They both covered the political beat, although while Eric spent time dissecting policy, Mickey tried to catch the men who made the policy in compromising positions. "I was invited by the family. While you are undoubtedly reporting that Adele Stackhouse is now a zombie? Or killed by a lover?"

Mickey chewed on his lower lip and spat, barely missing Eric's immaculately polished shoe. "Did she have a lover do you think? Because my money is always on the lover."

Eric exhaled slowly through his nose. "Go away."

Mickey raised an eyebrow at him and grinned. "If you're going to punch me, let me know, because I could totally sell that picture. I just need to get one of these other guys to take it."

Eric ignored him as a black stretch limo pulled up. "Is that the granddaughter? I hear she's hot."

Eric turned to glare at his "colleague." He felt enraged, which was kind of ridiculous, he barely knew Sookie Stackhouse and he'd hung around enough newsrooms to know that this sort of discussion was common enough. "Seriously, get the fuck out of here."

"You're such a sanctimonious prick. You're working at a second-rate paper. You can get off your high horse anytime." Mickey was laughing at him. Sometimes Eric couldn't believe this is where his life had ended up.

Sookie exited the car followed by her brother, who was holding her firmly by the elbow. To Eric's eye, it didn't look like a comforting hold. The brother, Jason, leaned in and said something to Sookie with a severe look. She glared at him and hurried into the church. Interesting.

Eric turned with the other lingering mourners and headed inside after the family had entered. Mickey was still on his heels. "How did you get in there, really? I have a line with People. I'll cut you in." Eric smirked at him and headed inside, not bothering to respond. He was a sanctimonious prick on a high horse after all. Little shit.

- 8 8 8 -

Sookie sat in the front row of the church. She sat here a lot. Her grandparents had been people of consequence within the community. Normally, she sort of liked being right up front, not having to look through people to see the minister, but today, it bothered her the way everyone was behind her. She felt like she couldn't see what was happening. And for reasons she couldn't explain, it made her edgy.

She craned her neck around to survey the attendees for maybe the third time since they'd sat down. The Bridge Club was in attendance, of course. As were representatives from many of the charities for which her grandmother had served on the board. Retired senators and congressmen that had known her grandparents, as well as several still holding seats. Friends from the community. A few of her friends from high school, although she'd lost touch with a lot of them. Jason's business partners. And Eric Northman. She smiled at him.

"Would you stop doing that?" Jason hissed at her. "You were raised better than to be peering at funeral guests like it matters who's here."

Sookie jerked back around in her seat as Jason turned around to look out over the crowd. "Who the hell are you looking for anyway? That boyfriend of yours better not be coming. I know Gran had a soft spot for him, but…"

"Jason, enough. You didn't want Quinn here. I told him to stay away, even though Gran wouldn't have cared in the least if he was here. But it wasn't worth the fight."

Jason raised a skeptical eyebrow. He didn't know what his grandmother had been thinking with Sookie these last few years. Letting her drop out of medical school and just hang around doing nothing, working in some biker bar and running all over the state with that big, bald son of a bitch. But Gran just kept saying to leave Sookie be that she needed to work through some things. She'd find her way in time. And when Jason had asked if Sookie was ever going back to medical school Gran had just smiled and said maybe she'd found a new gift which was taking her down a new path. Whatever. Sookie had obviously had some sort of nervous breakdown and either Gran wasn't seeing it or she was just being nice. Either way, it was time for her to get her shit together now because he wasn't going to support her while she "found herself."

"I know you're mad about that," Jason whispered leaning toward her. "But you have to see it from my perspective. You come home from school one weekend. You meet this guy. You go back to Boston for like two weeks and then you start coming home all the time. Next thing you know, you leave school and move home. Gran might have been okay with you giving up your whole life for some guy, but I'm not." Why couldn't she see he was only looking out for her?

"Jason, I wish you'd let it go. It's my life."

Jason frowned at her. She didn't even look very happy. And it wasn't like she'd run home and married this jerk-off. She just lived with Gran. Seeing this loser. Working in a bar. Out all night. And she wouldn't even explain it. If she'd run home and married him, Jason would have thought it was crazy, but at least he would have assumed she was just crazy in love. But she didn't seem very in love and she didn't really seem crazy either. He couldn't figure it out. "I just want you to be happy. You would have been a great doctor."

Sookie gave him a sad smile and placed her hand over his and gave it a small squeeze. "Today isn't the day, okay? Just let it go."

He looked at her hand over his and nodded. What was Sookie going to do without Gran? He covered their linked hands with his other one and gave hers and awkward, comforting pat. He scanned the mourners one more time to make certain Quinn wasn't there. He hated him more now than he had a minute ago. He didn't see him, but there was a guy that he knew he knew, but couldn't quite place. "Who's that guy?"

Sookie faced front and refused to follow Jason's gaze. "That tall blonde guy. He's looking at you. He looks familiar."

"He was a friend of Gran's. From D.C."

Jason chewed on his lip for a moment and his brows came together. Sookie could tell he was trying to place the familiar face. Fortunately, the minister chose that moment to come to begin. Sookie took a deep breath and released it. She just wanted today to be over.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi all,

Sorry for such a long delay I've been on the road for work all week! Enjoy! Thank you to my beta Chisaii-Kitty and Pepperminty Rose for pre-reading.

Thanks to everyone that has left reviews. I really appreciate them and am looking forward to hearing what you think about this chapter.

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><p>Sookie hauled more food from the kitchen to the large buffet spread in the dining room. Probably she should be talking to the mourners, but Jason seemed to be taking care of that. She just wanted these people out of their house.<p>

She was certain the only way she was going to get through this was working. She'd been refilling coffee pots and food trays since she'd gotten home. The caterers had raised their eyebrows at one another and gotten out of her way.

Sookie refolded a stack of napkins and looked out at her grandmother's closest friends - friends so close that they didn't seem to realize that all Sookie wanted was to be alone. A man brushed by her on his way to the buffet table, squeezed her arm and offered a sympathetic smile. She gave him a hollow smile in return. She was usually great at smiling. For the first time ever, she couldn't muster the energy.

She really didn't think the day could get any longer when she noticed her brother wending his way through the throngs of mourners that had invaded her house. Why did people think going back to the house after the funeral was a good idea? Who had thought up that tradition? It was ludicrous. It was practically the very last thing she wanted.

But back to her brother, he was definitely on his way toward her, no doubt about that. And he had a woman with him. Not that that was any big surprise. Jason Stackhouse always seemed to have a woman on his arm – and she was always gorgeous. If Jason made the decision to follow in their grandfather's footsteps, he was really going to have to watch it with the women. They just seemed fascinated by him.

But she assumed that even he would know better than to bring a date to their grandmother's funeral…especially after making rude remarks about her significant other. The woman, a tall, lovely African-American, did not seem like Jason's type though. Sure, tall and lovely fit the bill, but this woman looked very serious and she'd never known Jason to have much of an interest in serious.

They arrived in front of Sookie and she found herself trapped between the two of them and the dessert table. "Sookie, I want you to meet Corinna."

Sookie nodded graciously. She tried to smile, but frankly she wasn't certain she succeeded. She tried, but she was pretty certain her cheeks had moved toward muscle failure at this point. "Thank you for coming." It was an automatic response because she realized she had no idea what this woman was doing here.

Corinna nodded without smiling. And Jason added, "Corinna came up from Washington DC. Her firm worked with some of Gran's pet causes."

Sookie smiled politely. She couldn't think of anything to say about that or figure out why the woman was staring at her so intently. "I work for Victor Madden's firm." Corinna stated.

Sookie's grin began to become a little plastic, probably more than a little. "Well, its real nice of you to be here today."

Corinna was looking at her steadily, curiously. "Victor Madden asked that I come. I know that your grandmother was very dedicated to many causes and we thought you or your brother might want to continue her involvement."

Sookie frowned. This wasn't really a day to talk business and Corinna gave her a bad feeling, although she couldn't really say why. She opened her mouth to tell this annoying woman that now was not the time, when Eric Northman joined their group. "Pardon me, Sookie."

She looked up at him, thankful to turn away from her brother and this irritating woman he was visiting on her. "I just wanted to say again how sorry I am. I'm heading back into the office now, but perhaps we can talk tomorrow?"

She nodded. "I'll be here all day. Just come by."

He nodded and left.

Corinna was staring after him and then turned sharply toward Sookie. "Was that Eric Northman?"

Now it was Sookie's turn to look curious. "Yes. He was a friend of my grandmother's."

Corinna raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's interesting isn't it?"

Sookie frowned. What was this woman's problem? And what was so interesting about it anyway? "Well, she was an interesting woman," Sookie snapped not really certain what it was about Corinna that she found so irritating.

Jason watched the byplay like a tennis match and finally it all seemed to click into place and his face darkened like a thundercloud. The jig was certainly up as far as the Eric charade. "Eric Northman. He's a goddamn reporter! What the hell Sookie?"

He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the kitchen.

Jason was fuming mad that was obvious. "You brought a reporter into Gran's funeral?"

Sookie yanked her arm away from Jason and glared right back at him. "You brought a lobbyist!"

"It'not the same thing Sookie," he crossed toward her with purpose and Sookie was ashamed to say she backed up several steps. There was violence in his eyes like she had never seen. "What's there to be gained out of talking to the press? How can you do anything but tarnish this family's reputation?"

"Our grandmother was murdered Jason! And maybe that hasn't really sunk in with you since it was me that cleaned her blood of the floor in the foyer, but I think our reputation is pretty besmirched as it is."

"Sookie, it was a prowler or something. She was alone here at night –"

"It wasn't a prowler Jason!"

"Oh, please, do not start that shit again."

Sookie glared at him truly hating her brother in that moment. "I should never have told you anything. I thought maybe you could help us for once, but of course not. All you need to know is that I am protecting our family. We need a public story about Gran's murder. We have to hide the truth."

"The truth that she lived out in the middle of nowhere and was a victim of a random act of violence? Why are we hiding that?"

Sookie rolled her eyes at him. "Because that's not what happened, Jason. That's not even close."

Jason shook his head. "Why don't you go lie down the stress is obviously getting to you." He pushed his way through the kitchen door without another word.

Sookie cursed her brother for a patronizing asshole all the way up the stairs, but she did take the opportunity to duck out of the wake.

- 888 -

Jason knocked on her door several hours later. When she opened it he looked as apologetic as he could get. Sookie had changed out of her funeral clothes several hours ago and now wore flannel penguin pajamas, an old Dartmouth sweatshirt and fuzzy slippers. Jason smiled at the slippers. Gran had given them to Sookie for a Christmas present last year. They were so warm no else in the family could ever wear that brand of slippers, but Sookie's feet were always cold. "I called for pizza. Why don't you come downstairs and eat it with me?"

"Jason, there must be ten tons of food in the house! Why would you order pizza?"

He shrugged. "I wanted pizza. And I didn't want all that pity food anyway. It's like you can taste the fake sympathy." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her from the room. He smiled at her as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "I'll get us a couple of beers." And Jason headed toward the garage where Gran kept the beer.

The doorbell rang and Sookie went to the kitchen to grab her wallet before opening it. It was not the delivery guy. Sookie felt her heart stop. "Mr. Compton."

The dark-haired man nodded. "Miss Stackhouse. I wanted to offer my condolences on the passing of your grandmother."

Sookie swallowed. She didn't know how much she'd read about vampire on the Internet was actually true. Now that she knew they were real she had to figure at least some of it was true. "Thank you." She had tried to sound polite, but she was a little concerned that she'd mostly come off sounding frightened. Which would make sense because she was frightened.

"May I come in?"

Sookie shook her head. "No, I don't think that's going to be possible, but thank you so much for coming by." Sookie looked at him. He was a very good-looking man. Dark-haired, broad shouldered and he had a kind smile. He terrified her.

"Miss Stackhouse, please we really must speak." She felt a tickling in her brain and shook her head as though trying to dislodge water from her ear, it felt sort of like that. "I must speak with you."

"I'm sorry Mr. Compton, its not a good time as I'm sure you can imagine." The uncomfortable water feeling became stronger.

He looked surprised for a moment and then his features became impassive again. "Miss Stackhouse, I must speak with you now."

The door to the kitchen swung open and Jason wandered in. "Is that the pizza? That was quick."

"Go back to the kitchen, now." Mr. Compton said to her brother. Jason turned and went back to the kitchen without a word. Sookie looked at him with wide, scared eyes.

"Is that a glamour? Is that what you are doing?"

Bill Compton didn't respond for a moment. He'd never had a human ask him about his powers before, but of course now with the Internet everyone knew all about vampire lore even if they still did not realize vampires were real. He looked Sookie Stackhouse in the eye and gave a single nod. "Of course, it doesn't seem to work on you. Or your grandmother. Why is that Miss Stackhouse? I've been wondering since I first met you all those years ago. I even convinced myself that I'd been mistaken, at least in your case. I knew your grandmother well enough to know that she could not be glamoured."

Sookie's eyes narrowed in irritation. She hated it when people asked that kind of leading question that they knew you didn't know the answer to, it had always bugged her. So condescending. "Well, I don't know Mr. Compton. Why don't you tell me?"

He smiled slightly. "I've been trying to figure that out, but have not come to any conclusion. Whatever your history is, its long been buried or forgotten." He looked at her closely and then shook his head. As he did so, his face changed from intrigued and went back to the impassive mask. "Your brother is aligning himself with the wrong people."

It took Sookie a moment to catch up with this sudden turn in conversation. But she was not unaware that her brother was being threatened. It should have made her angry – she'd seen what vampires were capable of – but it only made her angry. When she spoke again her voice came out as an angry hiss. "My brother? He doesn't know anything about Grandpa or what you asked him to do. Hiding evidence of your existence. Pushing through funding for medical research."

Bill Compton pursed his lips and thought it over. He'd assumed the brother would be the same since Madden's people seemed to be working with him, but he'd been glamoured so easily, he could not be like Sookie. And then of course, what did Madden's people know. They were only lobbyists, hired help. But, of course, there was an election coming up. And he'd heard rumors that Jason Stackhouse was thinking about running. "Will he run, do you think, your brother?"

Sookie looked down at her slipper. She didn't know whether or not this man was trustworthy, but she also didn't see the point in lying about something that he could find out anywhere. She nodded. "Yes, he'll run. They're pulling everything together now."

Bill Compton stood silently trying to figure out the moves the opposing team was making. Should vampires reveal themselves, the timing of it, there were so many factions everyone scrambling to secure their own interests before the Great Reveal, truly they were a house divided. "And how do you feel about that decision?"

Sookie squared her shoulders and looked Bill Compton in the eye. She hated the idea of her brother running for office, but she wasn't about to share that with a vampire she hadn't seen in ten years. "I think he'll be a wonderful Congressman

Bill smiled slightly. "Oh yes, I'm certain he will be, but whose needs will he be meeting? The citizens of the great state of New Hampshire?"

Sookie had had about enough of this conversation. "Good night Mr. Compton. See that you don't eat my pizza guy when he arrives." She swung the door shut as he replied, "Good night Miss Stackhouse."


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, I know...its almost embarrassing to post a chapter after this long, but...and I have another one that I'll post in the next few days!**

**I have a million reasons for having fallen off the face of the earth that you don't want to hear, so I won't go into detail, but I will tell you that I really do want to finish this story. Not just because I like to finish the things I start, but because I love my offbeat stories. **

**Most of the people in the fandom won't really be interested in this story, but if you are enjoying it, I promise I am going to finish it, I just can't swear to a timetable. **

**Hope you are all well. It's been awhile!**

Eric parked his car in a parking lot across from a group of revitalized mill buildings. They were great venues for bars and restaurants. Cavernous, vacant and right on the water, what could be better? The neighborhood was nice now, but he imagined that twenty years ago, it had been seedy as all hell. When he'd seen the River Street address, he had assumed that Hair of the Dog was in here, but as he glanced at the wood carved sign that said Clancy's he realized that it must be on the other side of Granite Street. He checked the address on his phone and looked around, Hair of the Dog was definitely not in the restaurant strip he had assumed it to be. Which was a little off because there were no lights or foot traffic down at that end of River.

He stood thoughtfully for a moment and made the decision to go one foot. Jogging across the busier street through the minimal traffic, he came to a not yet revitalized neighborhood filled with yet more mill buildings, both working and abandon. And tucked in between a warehouse and a storage facility was Hair of the Dog. Sookie Stackhouse worked here? What the fuck?

He pushed open the door and realized after taking two steps inside that he made a giant mistake. This was a not the kind of bar that welcomed outsiders.

Sookie glanced up to see a blonde giant in Brooks Brother's casual standing out like a sore thumb in the middle of a biker bar, and not trendy hipster biker's either. Bikers. Scary ones.

And it wasn't just some lost tourist either. It was Eric Northman, looking for her. She let the beer run over the top of the glass and swore as it cascaded down onto her hand. The two men sitting at the bar snorted with laughter and started teasing her about eye-fucking the lost male model. Well, at least it broke the tension.

"Eric!" Sookie hailed him from behind the bar because as much as she wanted to duck behind the bar when he'd first walked in, he'd certainly seen her now. Also, he was too pretty to have the crap kicked out of him, which certainly would have happened if she hadn't hailed him.

He gave her an extremely relieved smile and strode over to the bar taking a seat across from her. "Sookie."

He didn't say anything else. She'd been hoping he would say something else. She really could have used a clue as to what he was doing here. "When I said come by, I meant to the house."

Eric shrugged. "I went to the house. You weren't there."

Sookie gave a short, frustrated sigh. Obviously, she wasn't there. "Well, yeah. But I was earlier today. I meant earlier."

He smiled at her and looked her directly in the eye. He did that she had noticed and she understood why; the effect was…She imagined the look he was giving her made a lot of women forget their annoyance. She was certainly feeling a lot warmer than she had been, but she couldn't just forget her annoyance. He couldn't be here.

"You didn't say a time." And he just kept right on staring. And smiling, charmingly. She sort of hated him for a moment. Had they turned up the heat in here tonight? She was feeling over-heated and she was in a tank top.

She shook her head to clear it. "Well, I'm sorry. But I'm working now. We can't talk here."

Eric glanced around. The bar was mostly empty right now, but Sookie knew it wouldn't be for long. "You aren't that busy."

Sookie glanced around for an excuse. "I am. I need to restock before the rush. We'll have to talk tomorrow. You need to go."

"I can help," Eric offered. "I worked at a bar through college. Maybe you knew it. I noticed today we went to the same college. Obviously, I graduated earlier. I know I would have noticed you."

"Would you knock it off with the flirting," Sookie snapped. "And stop trying to catch me off guard. I knew we went to the same college. Well college for you. Med school for me."

Eric was now the one slightly caught off guard. He had expected her to be thrown. Harvard graduates weren't usually found tending bar in run-down dives. Or if they were they felt the need to explain it in some way – if they were younger they were usually taking a stand against the establishment, otherwise known as, hadn't gotten their shit together. Or if they were a little older, like himself or even Sookie, it was more likely a nervous breakdown or substance abuse. Either way, there was usually a reason beyond, I like bikers. "Perhaps, you should become a reporter. You already seem to have all the facts."

Sookie snorted and sifted the ice in the cooler. "More than you do anyway."

Eric raised an eyebrow and watched her bicep move as she broke up the ice. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulder and the ends brushed against the cleavage now on full display in the tank top. She was kind of obnoxious. And really hot. She was also hiding something. He'd been chasing down people's secrets for long enough to know the signs.

He reached into his wallet and pulled out a ten, which he dropped on the counter in front of her. "I'll take a Harpoon and you can enlighten me."

She eyed the bill like it was going to bite her before reaching for a glass and pouring his drink. "We have Bud or Coors. I'm figuring you'd rather have Bud."

She slid the drink over to him and walked away without further comment. Eric wondered how much he was going to have to drink before she told him anything.

She opened two new bottles for the only other customers in the place before returning to a spot across from him. She hoisted herself up onto some sort of shelf and braced her feet against the top of the cooler creating a makeshift seat of sorts. "What exactly do you want to know? Because I thought you wanted to talk about my grandmother. But it seems like you want to talk about me."

He took a drink. "Just wondering what a girl like you is doing in a place like this?"

She snorted, unattractively, and rolled her eyes. Then slowly she started to laugh. Now that was attractive. "And I was just thinking…of all the gin joints in all the world, this pretentious Harvard asshole has to show up in mine."

Eric grinned. "A Harvard asshole, huh? I am in New England. I've been a Beltway asshole for years."

"Does that trump Harvard?"

Eric shrugged. "I learned to be a way bigger asshole in D.C. than I ever could have dreamed of being at Harvard. But let's get back to you. A sweet girl like you, with two years of medical school behind her, is serving beer for a living. If she was from the wrong side of the tracks you might think it was lack of funds. But, she's a Stackhouse. There's a whole town named after her. Some buildings at Dartmouth too."

Sookie's feet slid down off the ice chest. They didn't make a sound as they landed against the rubber mat on the floor behind the bar. She never broke eye contact with him, but the line of her jaw had become hard, as though she was clenching her teeth and the smile had gone out of her eyes. "I'm not sweet."

"Of course you aren't. But you certainly don't add up, do you?" He took another slow drink and wondered what the hell was going on. "You're grandmother…why would anyone ever hurt her? And what the hell was either of you doing buried up here? Hiding in that house? In this bar? You fell off the face of the earth during your second year of medical school, I'd think you couldn't hack it, but that doesn't seem likely from what I've seen so far. What's your story?"

Sookie was glaring at him now. Why had she said she'd talk to him? Eric Northman. She knew why she'd said she'd talk to him. She'd always thought he was attractive and smart, so smart. And quick. She'd watched him every time he was on television. He just ate up whomever he was up against. She'd mooned over him. Her grandmother had clucked her tongue and called him trouble, with a capital T. But there'd been a lot of laughter in her voice when she'd said it.

And then, when he'd showed up flirting with her. Sookie didn't miss her life as it had been. It seemed like it had all been nothing but a dream anyway like almost everyone in the world was walking around with this idea that how they lived their lives mattered and it was all just a load of crap. She didn't really miss her friends, now that they all thought she was insane. She'd made new friends, of a fashion. But she missed, something, conversation maybe? She never really got to talk with anyone about anything anymore and when she was talking to Eric…but he was just trying to trap her. Just like everyone else. Sometimes she felt like with Gran dead, there was no one she could trust.

"And what was Corinna Jones doing at your house yesterday? She works for Victor Madden."

Sookie looked at Eric startled. She'd almost forgotten he was really sitting there and not just the face of her problems. She gave him a curious look. "You know her?"

Interesting. It was the first crack he'd seen from her. He shrugged. "We've crossed paths. Undoubtedly, you already know that Victor was the key to my demise and Corinna does special projects for him."

Sookie bit her lip. Pieces were starting to fall into place and she couldn't say that she liked where they were landing. "Special projects?" What the hell did that mean anyway.

Eric took a long drink from his beer and shrugged again. He continued looking her right in the eye the whole time, damn that was disconcerting. "I've never been able to connect all the dots completely. Or when I do they don't make sense. Victor is working for someone. I think for this coming election and whoever it is has a very set agenda. A weird one. He's hiding something."

Sookie looked at him. That hair. She wanted to reach out and touch it. Just like sunshine. She knew his whole history and there might be some darkness in his life, but it was nothing like hers. She wanted him to leave the bar and go tell Pam that there was no story. She thought it hard at him, but of course, he didn't hear her. It didn't work like that. She couldn't protect him from something he already knew. "I had always heard the fight was because he slept with your wife."

Eric broke eye contact and took another long drink from his beer. When he was finished, he looked at her again. "Fiancée," he corrected. "And obviously, she wasn't worth much as a fiancée if she's sleeping with guys she knows I think are on the wrong side of the lobbying laws."

Sookie snickered. "You could also say she wasn't much of a person."

Eric laughed. "I could give a crap about her being a great human being, but loyalty is big with me."

She stared at him. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. Loyalty. They were still staring at each other when the door banged opened and Sookie looked up.

"Babe!"

Babe, what the fuck? Eric turned to see a large bald man standing in the doorway. Were his eyes purple?

**If you are reading again, drop me a note to let me know if you want me to finish or if you are over it...**


	8. Chapter 8

Hopefully this chapter will offer some explanations...enjoy! And thank you all for dropping me notes and leaving reviews! It re-inspired me!

The moment John Quinn had walked into The Hair of the Dog that night he'd been pissed off. If he was really honest about it, he'd been pissed at Sookie Stackhouse since the moment she had told him that she really didn't need him to come to her grandmother's funeral. He understood why, of course, and it wasn't just that their images didn't exactly go together. There was her brother and his congressional run to think about and Sookie didn't really want people looking very closely at her life right now. He got it, but still…it stung. He wouldn't have minded Sookie leaning on him a little. She never really seemed inclined.

If he were really, really honest with himself, he'd admit that he'd been pissed off about his circumstances in life for almost as long as he could remember and angry at the world was kind of his default mood. But he tried not to spend much time thinking about it. Circumstances were what they were and there was no reason to cry for the moon when you knew you weren't going to get it. Only really late at night when he was lying in bed looking at Sookie after she'd fallen asleep and wondering why she didn't seem interested in moving things forward in their relationship, despite his knowing all her deepest darkest secrets and not caring about them.

But when he walked in to the bar, his bar. Well, he didn't own it, but it was his just the same. And saw her leaning forward talking to some guy, who clearly didn't belong there either, he moved from feeling dissatisfied with how his relationship was progressing to really fucking irritated.

It wasn't just that she was talking to a guy. She talked to guys all the time. Quinn was not insecure or especially jealous. He was good-looking. He was a leader. Men wanted to be him, women wanted to fuck him, blah, blah, blah. You got the idea, he was _the_ man around here. But she had this smile on her face as she talked to this guy. It was soft. Quinn had seen the smile before, been on the receiving end of it, but he'd never seen it from Sookie – that small, soft smile. What the fuck?

He glanced toward the guy that Sookie was looking at. He expected to feel more irritated, but instead he just felt shocked. The guy was good looking, no doubt, tall and muscular, but lean, not bulky like Quinn himself, but he was dressed like a god damn accountant or maybe a teacher...yeah, that was it he was dressed like a teacher. And not like a public school teacher, but like some snotty prep school like Sookie had gone to. Was this the kind of guy Sookie liked?

She didn't even notice when he walked in which was why he'd called out. They had both looked up, Sookie and the guy, with identical surprised looks on their face. Well, now that he looked at Sookie more closely maybe her look seemed a little guilty. Apparently, this guy was just one more secret she'd been planning on hiding. The guy looked taken aback as he took in Quinn's height, girth and riding leathers. Yeah, drink it in asshole in your tweed jacket, Quinn thought. She's my girl.

He stalked to the bar fully aware of how quiet it had gotten. Sookie was pouring a beer and had it down in front of him almost before he had crossed the space. His girl could tend bar, he'd say that for her. Actually, he'd say lots of things for her, he just didn't think they were things she'd be interested in hearing. Quinn had no illusions.

It took him awhile to get there. Guys walked over to greet him. People called out question about his "hunt." Quinn had no idea who this guy was, but he knew who he was – someone you didn't want to fuck with.

In another world, a normal world, Sookie Stackhouse would have no interest in John Quinn. He'd grown up in a part of Manchester that she had probably never even been to beyond her grandmother's charity work. He worked in construction and rode a motorcycle. Girls who went to boarding school and headed to Ivy League colleges, Stackhouse girls, didn't date guys like John Quinn because they never met them. In a different world, Sookie Stackhouse would never have crossed paths with John Quinn.

But he had met her because this was not a normal world and Sookie Stackhouse was not your normal prep school girl. Or maybe she was what the fuck did he know about prep school girls, but either way their situation was not normal because John Quinn was a Were-Tiger who hunted vampires along with the wolf pack up here and Sookie Stackhouse could hear vampire thoughts and had spent the last several years helping them. And whoever this clown that she was talking to was, Quinn doubted that he even knew vampires existed.

He looked at Sookie carefully over his mug of beer. She looked different than the first time he'd ever seen her. Harder. And yet somehow even more frightened. And the first time he'd seen her, she looked pretty damn frightened.

Well, not the very first time. He'd seen her earlier that night too. She was out with friends. She'd been drinking. Not here at Hair of the Dog. At one of the new bars on the other side of Willow Street – the trendy side. He'd gone in to talk to one of the bartenders. He'd noticed her. The whole bar probably had. Her and her equally lovely friends.

They had a big hunt planned for the next night. There was a vampire nest hanging around a seedy movie theater picking off kids as they left the late night shows. The nest hadn't been easy to find, but Alcide Hevereaux's pack had an especially talented tracker and they were making their move the next night.

As a tiger Quinn didn't run in a pack. He was the independent type. But he was well-known in the Were community and Alcide's people had been happy to work with him. He wasn't always to clear on how Alcide felt. He'd gone by the bar that night hoping to do the politic thing. He didn't want Alcide feeling like he was taking over the pack. He wasn't interested.

Alcide owned that trendy place where Sookie had been that night, the Hair of the Dog and another place further up north. More of a tourist place. They did well, but Quinn couldn't stand the trendy vibe of that particular bar. He'd pushed his way through the crowd as he headed toward the bar. Alcide saw him coming and extended his hand. Quinn shook it and leaned against the bar. "Busy tonight."

Alcide shrugged. "It's always packed like this right before Christmas."

A peel of laughter broke out from across the room and Alcide and Quinn turned in the direction of the shrieking girls. "Who's the blonde?"

Alcide smiled at him and raised an eyebrow. "That's Sookie."

The way he said it, Quinn got the feeling that Alcide had tried and struck out. Quinn grinned. "Pretty."

Alcide shook his head. "She lives down in Boston. She's just up here for the holidays."

Quinn glanced at her again and then forgot her. He didn't have any time for a woman really and certainly not one that lived an hour away. He and Alcide had other things to discuss. And then he smelled it.

Sookie had been saying goodbye to one of her friends, pretty girl short brown bob. Tara, he'd found out later. And Quinn had smelled something, something dead. He'd done a quick sweep of the bar, but hadn't been able to find the deader. And then he caught its scent by the door. He'd followed it outside only to see Sookie Stackhouse hurrying toward an empty street calling for her friend in a voice that sounded nothing short of panicked.

Suddenly, she'd broken into a run screaming, "Tara, Tara, run!" Her friend, pretty girl, but apparently not that bright, had stopped to argue with Sookie about what she was carrying on about. About thirty seconds later one of the slimiest looking fuckers Quinn had ever seen was on her and Sookie was shrieking for help and searching the ground for some sort of weapon.

Sookie didn't know it, but she'd almost gotten Tara killed that night. He'd been about to transform when Sookie had grabbed a fallen branch from the ground and charged at the monster attacking her friend. Quinn had been so shocked by this reaction, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her. In fact, he'd forgotten that he could actually save the day here. At least for a few seconds. It had caused Tara to spend the night in the hospital. But she certainly fared better than the thing that had been trying to eat her. Quinn had knocked Sookie out of the way as he ran toward them. It had been a short fight. He hadn't been much of a vampire, whoever he was.

Later in the waiting room of the hospital, he'd looked over at Sookie weeping quietly in a plastic chair. She was…he was enchanted. "How'd you know?"

She sniffled loudly and wiped the back of her hand across her face and turned to stare at him. She stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. "What do you mean?"

Quinn smiled at her and tried to appear non-threatening. He knew there was something about her. She was different and she knew something. "How did you know your friend was in danger?"

She stared at him and shook her head. She rose fluidly and began to walk away. But she was human and she wasn't going to get away from him easily. He grabbed her arm and watched her turn and stare at the large hand enveloping her upper arm. Maybe she was scared when he first grabbed her, but by the time she raised her eyes to meet his, she was pissed, not a trace of fear. "Excuse me."

"No way sister. You tried to kill a vamp tonight. You knew he was coming after your friend and I want to know how. It was like you could…I don't know…but it was like Buffy or some shit."

She looked him right in the eye. "Get the fuck away from me."

He dropped her arm and smiled. "I don't scare easily babe. And I want us to be friends."

She smiled at him sourly. "Yeah, well, I'm really more of a dog person."

Quinn was pretty certain he was in love. He watched her walk toward the hospital doors, but she didn't step through them. Instead she stood there staring out into the darkness. Her shoulders seemed to slump a little and then a little more. She turned and walk back toward him. "Look, I know I was just really rude, but would you…would you mind walking me to my car? It's really dark out there."

Quinn nodded and rose. He followed her out into the hospital parking lot. Her hands shook as she held her keys. Her eyes darted around to all of the darkest corners. Finally, he reached out and took the keys. "Why don't you just let me drive you home? You've had a rough night."

Her only response was to let go of the keys, allowing them to drop into his hand. She walked silently over to the passenger side and climbed in. Quinn opened the door to her Jeep and climbed inside. "Where to?"

"You know Stackford?"

Quinn nodded. He'd worked on a development there recently.

"You know the white house on the hill near the church?"

"Yup," he put the car in the reverse and began to back up. "You live near the Stackhouse place?"

She looked out the window away from him. "I live at the Stackhouse place. I'm Sookie Stackhouse."

Quinn was rarely impressed or intimidated by anyone, but he was now, at least for a moment. Mitchell Stackhouse was an admirable man. And Adele was practically considered a state treasure. Then he shook it off. Nobody knew better than he did that you couldn't help what you were born to.

Sookie largely ignored Quinn that first night. She was grateful that he was there, had been there earlier, but that's about all she could say. She couldn't get beyond the voice in her head. She would never forget what the vampire had sounded like. It was different from the first voice. The night at her grandparents so many years ago.

The man that had come to see her grandfather had been cultured, educated, he'd had an agenda. In many ways, he was a lot like all the men, and women, that came to see her grandfather except she could hear what he was thinking.

Tonight was something else. That thing, vampire she supposed, had wanted Tara's blood. It had smelled her in the bar. Liked her. Followed her. It had been vicious, terrifying. Its thoughts were the scariest thing Sookie had ever heard. She never wanted to hear anything like that again.

"You were real brave tonight."

She started and glanced over at Quinn. She'd forgotten about him. She looked down at herself and realized that she was huddled against the door as if trying to protect herself. She didn't respond. She didn't feel very brave. She felt sick.

"You picked up that stick and charged right in there…that's probably the bravest thing I ever saw." Quinn sounded impressed. It made Sookie feel a little ill.

Sookie frowned. She wished he'd stop talking about it. She wished she could block it out. Why the hell had she come home this weekend anyway? The stress of med school had been getting to her. Now look where she was. What could she ever do as a doctor? What was the point when there were things like that out there?

"You saved her," she croaked. She hadn't realized how dry her mouth was.

Quinn shrugged. "It's different for me. I've fought them before. And you know plus…"

"You turn into an enormous tiger," Sookie provided.

"Makes it a little easier to fight vamps than just being a little bit of nothing with a stick." He grinned at her.

Sookie narrowed her eyes. "Are you laughing at me? Because that was just about the most awful thing I ever saw. My friend almost died. And she's saved by a man who turns into a freaking tiger! And you shredded that thing…and his thoughts. God, even when he was dying…they were disgusting." She began to sob. Disgusting snot sobbing. She didn't have a tissue. But seriously, who cared. She felt like she couldn't get enough air. She was pretty sure she was about to hyperventilate. She wiped at her face with her hands.

"That's gross," Quinn commented idly. "You've got to have Kleenex in here somewhere."

"Fuck you!" Sookie half sobbed, half hiccupped. Wow, she really was a mess. She could barely get enough air to spit the words out.

Yeah, in that moment Quinn decided that he definitely liked her. Plus, the vampire mind reading thing…that was more than a little interesting. That could be extremely helpful to his cause. "Could we back up to the part about the thoughts? Because that's pretty interesting. You knew he was going after your friend?"

Sookie looked at him, nodded and then went back to staring out the window. Very interesting, Quinn told himself. Sookie Stackhouse might have been the most interesting person he had ever met.

Quinn settled in to the bar stool across from Sookie and held out his hand to Eric, who raised himself up from his slouched over position before extending his own hand to grasp the bald biker's. Eric couldn't help but posture a little. He assumed it was some sort of male gene. And in this case, it was laughable, because John Quinn was clearly a man who knew how to brawl in a barroom and the last time Eric had been in a fight, unless you counted Victor Madden which he didn't, was in tenth grade when Rob Dayton had written things about Eric's younger sister on the bathroom wall. That guy had been such a dick.

"John Quinn."

"Eric Northman."

Sookie giggled nervously, she hadn't meant to, it just seemed to escape, causing Eric to raise an amused eyebrow at her and Quinn to glare at her slightly. "Eric knew Gran in D.C."

Eric found that explanation interesting. Well, he found the fact that it appeared to be intentionally misleading interesting. He nodded solemnly confirming Sookie's descriptor of him, it was after all, true.

"You're just up for the funeral?"

Eric smiled to himself and then gave Quinn a surprised look. "No, no. I've just taken a job with the Leader."

Now, it was Quinn's turn to look confused. Sookie hurried to explain, "Eric wrote for The Post when Grandpa…that's how he knew Gran…he's a reporter, Eric that is." Sookie's voice was quiet by the end of the sentence. She would have hidden her face in her hands, but it would have given away far too much of what she was feeling.

Quinn's eyes widened when Sookie said that he was a reporter. He turned his head slowly toward Eric and staring at him as though Sookie had just pronounced him the devil. Eric stared back. It wasn't the first time someone had looked at him like he was something they'd just scraped off the bottom of their shoe, he doubted it would be the last either. He felt like it was a huge nod to his self-control that he was able to keep himself from grinning at Quinn.

His cheer faded slightly though when he heard a low rumble that seemed to be coming from Quinn. Was he growling? Seriously? It sounded like the guy was growling. Which was insane because people didn't growl, not like that. He was a writer. He'd occasionally written that someone growled something as a descriptor, but this was like a real growl. Eric was pleased that he didn't scoot his barstool back because he wanted to, badly. There was something seriously off about that guy.

Quinn stood up without looking at Eric again. "Sookie I'll talk to you later." He got about halfway to the door before turning around. "I know you're supposed to be a smart girl, but it seems to me like you're about to take a pretty stupid chance. You don't need a guy like that. My girl doesn't need to go to a reporter to settle a score."

Sookie narrowed her eyes at him. "Thanks for the advice Quinn…but its my family, my score and I'm my own girl."

Quinn gave her an appraising look and then shrugged as he turned to head out the door. Fuck her. She'd be back. She needed him.


End file.
